Don't Make Me Like You
by Kat-Invasion
Summary: Morgan was happy with her life before the arrival of the strange blue man, who brought with him an exciting misadventure she wasn't sure she wanted to play a part in. Kurt/OC
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim ownership of the X-Men Films, comics or other sectors of the franchise.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

* * *

><p>"Laundry day! Everyone bring their hampers to the main hall!"<p>

Morgan Tanner woke with a scowl on her face. Once again, she had been rudely awoken just as she had been having a good dream, a blessing in the past few weeks while she had been suffering an onslaught of nightmares. She silently cursed the PA system waking her with the announcement that it was time for her to take care of her housekeeping.

She eventually dragged herself out of bed, rubbing at her eyes. She picked a pair of jeans up off the floor and threw them onto her bed, and began searching for a shirt to wear in the sea of dirty laundry that covered nearly every inch of the carpet. Eventually she found a white tank top and one of her flannel jackets, and threw those on top of the jeans. Then, reminded by another call reminding everyone that it was, in fact, laundry day, she quickly scooped up everything else and threw it into the hamper that was sitting dejectedly in the corner farthest from the door.

She then peeled off her pyjamas, throwing them into the hamper as well, and changed into the clothing she had picked out previously. Stepping in front of the mirror hanging slightly crooked opposite the door, she decided her outfit would suffice for the day, and then left her room, dragging the hamper behind her.

The halls were ringing with the sounds of chatter and laundry hampers bumping into walls and people, and the call of "laundry day!" being heard loud and clear over the PA system. Morgan sighed, hating the commotion. She wished she could return to bed, but with the current volume of the teen floor, she probably couldn't have if she had tried.

She joined the crowd of teens pushing their way down the stairs, bumping elbows every so often, but too tired to apologise. Mechanically she followed the herd, the teenagers being joined by the younger kids, and heading down another flight of stairs before ending up in the main hall, where she set her hamper in the line up with everyone else's. She grabbed a tag from the basket sitting in the centre of the hall, and using the provided marker scrawled her name onto it, before clipping it onto the hamper and bidding adieu 'til that evening when she would be reunited with her clothing.

She decided it was high time to find Lacy.

Morgan found the trek down to the main office of the foster home extremely easy, as everyone else had headed off to the dining hall for breakfast (or brunch, she supposed, as it was ten-thirty-six), or were outside in the courtyard playing in the freshly fallen snow. She hummed to herself absent-mindedly as she ran her fingers against the off-white plaster walls, only lifting her hand to rap her knuckles against the oak door, just under the worn name plate that read "Lacy D. Parsson: head care giver".

From inside the room there was a cheerful call of "come in!" and Morgan opened the door without hesitation or grace.

"Ah, Morgan. What a surprise."

Lacy stood behind her desk, a cheerful look on her face as always. On top of the desk sat one of the younger children, whose hair Lacy was braiding with her nimble fingers. Morgan fell into one of the chairs in front of the ancient looking desk. "Mornin'."

Lacy gave Morgan a sideways glance, the smile never leaving her face. "Have you had breakfast yet, Morgan?" she asked, tying off the girl's braid and then helping her off the desk. The child murmured her thanks before running off.

"Nope. Mind if I use that brush?"

The older woman passed the hairbrush to Morgan, who began to viciously tear through the knotted mane of hair that framed her face.

Lacy stepped out from behind the desk, picking up a phone and dialling a number. "You know, if you didn't rip through your hair like that every morning, it wouldn't be nearly as frizzy. And then

you could stop complaining to me about it."

"Oh, spare me, you love it when I come to bother you for beauty tips."

Lacy laughed before punching in another set of numbers into the phone. "Travis asked for you. I was going to page you down if you didn't come to visit this morning."

Morgan's heart leapt into her throat. "Travis? Asked for me?"

"Yes, he called in and said that he wanted you to find him at the park as soon as possible."

Morgan's mind began to spin, imagining all the possible reasons Travis Able could want to meet with her, before Lacy ruined it by saying "he reported that he saw a strange looking fellow wandering around not two hours ago. You should go to see him and get the details."

Morgan sighed. Of course. She should have known better. Aside from the fact that Travis was a shameless flirt, he was an extreme busybody, always taking his work almost too seriously. Not that his job was unimportant, but Morgan still pined for more of his attention.

"Well, seeing as I have no prior engagements at the moment, I suppose I'll go and meet with him now." Morgan said, standing from the chair at the same time Lacy sat down in hers behind the desk.

"Make sure you grab something to eat before you leave, Morg."

"Yeah, I will." Morgan said, leaving the room as if it were on fire. She jogged down the corridor, smiling to herself like an idiot. But she didn't care. Travis Able, the head scout, had asked for her.  
>Not Fiona Richards, not Bailey Hanson.<p>

But her, Morgan Tanner.

"Maybe today will be good after all," she thought aloud, grabbing her coat from the cubby it was tucked away in and bounding out into the cold winter morning.

* * *

><p>Morgan found Travis' usual spot in the park, under the old maple tree. It was the tallest tree in the park, standing next to the playground, which currently was buried under ice ad snow, the swings creaking as their chains fought against the freezing temperatures. Travis was nowhere to be seen, so Morgan peered up into the tree branches. The cold had come early this year, freezing over the maple's leaves before they could fall off. She figured that hiding in the branches would be the ideal place to watch passer-by's without being seen yourself.<p>

"Hey, Travis!" she called up into the branches, "you up there?"

There was a moment of silence before Travis jumped down from the tree, landing behind Morgan and startling her. "Hey, Morg. Glad you could make it."

Morgan rolled her eyes but grinned anyways. She couldn't help finding him charming, what with his messy brown hair, and the dimples he had when he smiled. "You wanna tell me about this guy you saw or not? If we want to catch up with him before he gets bored of our humble little town, I better get going," she said, gazing at him in the most flirtatious way she could muster.

Travis smiled cockily. "Right, right, miss Nancy Tanner, off to save the town from yet another threat." he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree trunk. "Okay, so this guy was around about two hours ago. I saw him from pretty far away, but I got a pretty good look at him. He looked pretty normal; heavy trench coat for the winter, but, uh, I could have sworn he was blue. So that would be what tipped me off that he was, in fact, not normal."

Morgan frowned, confused. "Blue?"

Travis nodded. "Yeah." Travis gave a wry laugh, shaking his head as if it was all strangely amusing. Morgan wouldn't have been surprised if it had been for him. "The things the world throws at us."

Morgan shrugged. "All right then, I guess I have to go catch this blue guy. See you later Travis."

She turned to leave, and just as she hoped, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Wait Morgan, do you want to go out for coffee later? You're not busy are you?"

Morgan smiled almost too widely, barely suppressing a disgustingly girlish giggle as she asked, "Like a date?"

Travis smiled, making her heart skip a beat, and said, "just like a date."

* * *

><p>Morgan found it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand after having been asked on a date by Travis. The only reason she even bothered searching for the man Travis had described was because she wanted so badly to impress him, a well as the fact that Lacy would be seriously pissed if she didn't find him.<p>

The streets were very quiet, probably because of the snowfall. Morgan didn't blame the pures for keeping indoors; it was bitter cold out and the landscape was blindly white, forcing Morgan to squint just to see ten feet ahead. The storefronts on main-street were all dark; some closed for the winter break, while those that were usually open were currently snowed in.

Morgan lazily peered down alleyways as she passed, half-heartedly searching for the stranger. She had no luck so far, although she did find a stray cat rummaging through a garbage pail.

Eventually she stopped looking down the alleys. She figured that she'd be able to hear anyone else if they were near by, and began to turn her attention to her freezing fingers. She regretted not grabbing a pair of mittens before rushing out to meet Travis. She also regretted not wearing a hat, or a scarf. All in all, she was not properly dressed for the weather.

She sat down on top of an icy snow bank, nearly slipping off. She tried to down the street, to see if she could make out any figures in the blinding landscape, though it proved futile as her eyes bean to ache and she returned to squinting.

She breathed into her hands, pondering her next move, when she heard sombre murmuring coming from behind her. Turning around, she found that she was seated infront of the town's only church, although no one was in sight. She assumed that the murmuring was coming from the church grounds, beyond the gate, which was stuck wide open, frozen in the same snow bank she had sat on. She figured that it was worth giving the courtyard a look-see, and jumped up, moving quickly and quietly into the churchyard.

The yard also served as the town's only graveyard, and Morgan stepped carefully over and around the iced-over slabs of stone that marked the resting places of the dead. She ducked behind a large statue of a guardian angel, its stone face twisted in an expression of both mourning and peace. Morgan looked at it sceptically, knowing for a fact that people don't look at peace when they are mourning a loved one's passing. She was brought back to the matter at hand by the sounds of someone praying rather loudly, and peered around the angel's outstretched wing.

Before the statue of the Virgin Mary knelt a man who fit Travis' description, wearing a heavy trench coat. She couldn't get a very good view of him from her vantage point, and tried leaning a bit further, but lost her balance. She took a heavy step to keep her from falling face-first into the snow, causing the man to turn to stare at her for barely a second, his bright yellow eyes wide with shock, or maybe fear. Before Morgan could flinch, he disappeared.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello all :] Thank you for reading the first chapter of_ Don't Make Me Like YOu_! I hope you enjoyed it.

First matter I would like to address: there will be quite a bit of cussing throughout this story (mostly on Morgan's part), so if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, exercise caution if you choose to read the next chapters!

The second matter at hand is that I'd like you all to know that this is the first time writing a "serious" ocxcanon story. I'd be extremely appreciative if you could tell me if I'm writing something extremely Mary-sue-y. Actually, I'd be more than extremely appreciative, I'd be over the moon. I'd like to avoid writing a sue-fic [:

That's all for now! Thank you very much for reading once again!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

><p>Morgan stood shocked, staring at the spot where that man had been only moments before, now replaced with a quickly dissipating cloud of deep blue smoke, the air smelling faintly of rotten eggs.<p>

She turned back to the graveyard, scanning the area for any sign of the man. After a moment of searching, she spotted him perched in the branches of a tree on the other side of the cemetery. Their eyes met, and one more he disappeared in a cloud of blue.

She watched him as he appeared and disappeared a number of times, finding him balanced on top of tombstones, on the roof of the church, standing under the trees. He was watching Morgan as carefully as she was watching him.

She sighed, deciding it was time to resort to her 'special ability'.

She took in a deep breath, focusing on the blue fellow as best as she could with him hopping around like a maniac. She concentrated on his emotions, tapping into his mind. Every time he teleported, she would lose focus a bit, but she could tell what he was feeling; nervous, surprised. With another deep breath, she began to force another emotion onto him, an all-encompassing peace of mind, at the same time feeling overcome with the same peace as well. She opened her eyes to find the blue man standing in front of her, his face void of expression, eyes a mix of confusion and calm.

Morgan smiled at her accomplishment. She hadn't exercised her ability in a long while- she had had no reason to- and was glad that she was still able to use it effectively. She loved the feeling of controlling someone else's emotions. She felt powerful, as if she were holding their mind in her hands, and she could crush it if she felt so inclined. Except she couldn't actually crush anyone's mind. Though she could make them a blubbering mess.

"Alrighty then, now that you've decided to stop with the teleporting, you and I are going to have a little chat." Morgan smirked, the man continuing to stare at her. "My name's Morgan. I just want to ask you some questions."

The man swallowed dryly. "Alright."

"You got a name?"

"Kurt. Kurt Wagner."

Morgan nodded, indifferent. "Fantastic. And, if I may be so bold, what brings _you_ to Abbotston this fine day, Mr Wagner?"

Too late Morgan realised that this was a dumb question to ask. Her powers allowed her to control emotions, not make people tell the truth. She would have to hope that this complete stranger, Kurt, would be honest in his answer. And even if he wasn't, it didn't really matter, she decided. Lacy would handle it, with her pet lie detector, Fiona Richards.

Kurt continued to stare at Morgan, which she was beginning to find greatly unnerving. She had seen a lot of mutations before, but had never been so shocked by one before. Most of the mutations she had seen that affected one's appearance were really minor compared to his.  
>In addition to his blue skin, he had a mouthful of sharp teeth, and a tail under his coat, which she had noticed when he had been teleporting all over the place only minutes earlier. All over his body, covering his face and what she could see of his hands, he bore what looked like graceful swirling designs, carved into his skin. The designs were both beautiful and terrible, Morgan cringing deep in her mind at the idea of the pain of having one's skin carved into. She also noticed that the man was not wearing any shoes, and for apparently good reason. Each of his feet had only two long toes. Glancing at his hands she counted that he also only had two fingers, and thumbs.<p>

Kurt finally answered her, saying, "I vas sent here."

"Sent?" she frowned. "Sent by who?"

"Ze professor. I vas sent by ze professor." he continued to stare at her. "Please let me go."

Morgan shrugged, but didn't relax her mental grip on his emotions. "Gladly, but I have someone who wants to talk to you. Strictly business, nothing weird, I promise."  
>After a second of thought, he replied, saying, "Yes, zhat is a good idea. I shall meet your friend, fräulein."<p>

Morgan smiled, releasing his mind. "Brilliant."

* * *

><p>Morgan was almost too happy to arrive back at the foster home. The children were all still out playing, or elsewhere in the building. She was glad that she wouldn't have to ward off stares and curious inquiries about the strange blue man. It had been all she could do not to stare at him the entire walk home from the church grounds, and she had been stressed for the duration of the trip. The man on the other hand had remained calm the entire time, even after she had left him to his own devices. He seemed almost too calm, nearly smug about it. As if he had full control of the situation.<p>

Morgan didn't give so much as a rat's ass as to whether he had control or not. She was going to dump him in Lacy's office and go on with her life, hopefully never seeing little boy blue again.

Upon arrival at Lacy's office, Morgan knocked loudly on the door, opening it impatiently before hearing a reply.

"Hey Lace, I found the guy."

Lacy looked up from her desk, an almost surprised look crossing her face behind the glasses she had donned for reading. She sighed. "I've told you to knock before coming into my office, Morgan."

"But I did knock."

"I've told you to wait for me to answer before coming into my office, Morgan."

Morgan shrugged, pulling Kurt into the office behind her. "Whatever. I found the guy."

Lacy turned her attention to the third person in the room. "Oh. Oh, my. Hello." She stood, from either shock or respect, Morgan couldn't tell.

Kurt raised a hand silently in greeting. "Guten Tag."

"Ah, yes, uh, good day, uhm," Lacy stumbled through the simple greeting like Godzilla through a city, "my, I'm not sure I caught your name..."

"Kurt Wagner," the blue mutant replied, having turned his attention to the book case he was standing next to, on the opposite side of the office. "But I am also known as the incredible Nightcrawler, to some."

Lacy's eyebrows rose, her mouth opening slightly. "Oh. Well, hello, Kurt."

Morgan slumped into the chair in front of Lacy's desk. "Yeah, so I found him, here he is, can I go now?"

Lacy ignored Morgan's question, gesturing for the red headed girl to get up from the chair. Morgan scowled at her, but stood none the less, and took to leaning against the wall. Lacy then offered the seat to Kurt, who took the seat quietly.

He then said, "You are Frau Parsson, correct?"

Lacy nodded, leaning back in her seat. "I am indeed."

"I vas sent here by Professor Xavier, to send a message for him."

"Yes?" Lacy frowned, "what did he want?"

Morgan opened her mouth to interject, but Lacy held up her hand to silence her.

"He vanted me to tell you that he suspects that your home," the mutant gestured to the building around them, "may be in some sort of danger."

Lacy's eyes widened. "What? What kind of danger?"

Kurt frowned apologetically. "Zhat is not something I can tell you, as I do not know the answer myself, Frau Parsson."

Lacy bit her lip, her eyes trailing to the phone that sat on the dusty side table that stood next to the door. "I suppose this means I'll be placing a few phone calls."

Wagner nodded. "Zhat vould be a good idea, I believe."

Morgan stepped forward, slamming a palm down onto the desk. "Wait just a minute, who the hell's this Professor guy? And where are you even from?" she pointed at Kurt, glaring.

"Morgan." Lacy warned.

"Well?" Morgan turned to Lacy, "You seem to know just as much as he does!"

"_Morgan!_ Zitto!" Lacy snapped standing up. "You're being rude."

Morgan gave Lacy a 'bite me' look. "I still want answers."

The older woman shook her head slowly. "Professor Charles Xavier, who owns the Xavier institute for gifted youngsters. It's a school for mutants."

Morgan crossed her arms. "So it's the same sort of place as this?"

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. Although the Xavier institute operates more as a school, whereas we treat this place more as a foster home."

"Or an orphanage."

"Yes, in some cases. But that's beside the point Morgan."

"How do you know this Professor guy then?"

Lacy shrugged. "When I was younger, I was invited to join his 'X-men'. Which," Lacy looked at Kurt, "I suppose you are part of?"

The man nodded.

"X-what?" Morgan stared at Lacy. "Okay, I'm feeling more lost than I did before."

Lacy waved her hand at her dismissively. "You'll figure it all out soon enough, seeing as we appear to have a collaboration in the near future."

Morgan began to walk towards the door again. "Can I go now? I have a date to get ready for.

"Yes Morgan, you may go. But, first," Lacy said, opening one of the drawers in her desk, finding a pair of keys and tossing them to Morgan, who was barely prepared to catch them. "I want you to show or guest to his room. He'll need somewhere to stay while Xavier and I sort things out."

Morgan scowled at the older woman, but didn't protest, leading the way out of the office, Kurt hot on her heels. Lacy turned to face the dusty old telephone, wondering if the ancient thing even worked anymore, it not having moved an inch since her grandfather's time. With only the slightest hesitation, she picked up the receiver and began to dial.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

><p>The halls were still silent, the only noise coming from outside the windows that overlooked the courtyard that the children were playing in. Morgan took a second to look out, just in time to see a flaming football soar through the air, sending a group of boys diving out of the way. Morgan pushed the window opened, sticking her head out to yell "Hey! Watch it, Christian!" There was a call of "Sorry!" from the other side of the yard. Morgan stepped back, shutting the window again.<p>

"Vhat happened?" Kurt asked, looking out the window himself.

"One of the kids nearly set some of the other brats on fire. Not an abnormal occurrence, but it is something we like to keep on top of here." Morgan shrugged. "It's such a pain to have to go out and buy them new coats and things because someone else was being a dolt."

Kurt chuckled quietly. "Yes, I can imagine."

The rest of their trip was uneventful, the pair's silence so quiet it nearly echoed. Checking the engraving on the key, Morgan found that the room she was to give her guest was on the fourth floor, one of the oldest rooms in the house. The stairs up to the former attic were at the end of the teen hall, a small set of wooden stairs that creaked something awful. Only the adults that worked in the building as caretakers had rooms upstairs, and the rooms weren't very nice, with thin walls that barely kept out the cold. Morgan thought to warn the man, but she decided against it, not really wanting to talk.

Upon arrival at the room she was to appoint to Kurt, Morgan violently jammed the key into the lock, turning it to unlock, and wrenched it out again. She went to pass it to Kurt, but stalled, unsure of how to approach his three-fingered hand. Eventually, he took the key from her, causing Morgan to jolt, cheeks burning red as her hair.

"Uh, sorry…" she began to back down the hall, towards the stairs. Kurt watched her carefully. "If you need anything, go and ask Lacy."

He blinked slowly. "Okay."

"…Okay. Alright, okay, I'll see you, then. I guess."

Morgan headed back down to the teen floor, hearing the click of the door closing down the hall. With every step she took, she realized that she was going to get ready for her date. Her _date_. With _Travis_. Suddenly, she was very nervous, her mind becoming a panicked whorl. What would she wear? She didn't have any clothing that was date-y. What would she say? Should she act like her normal, grumpy self? Or should she act nicer?

What if the date was awful?

What if it was _good_?

So caught up in her thoughts, Morgan didn't notice the figure blocking the stairs, arms stretched from one banister to the other.

"Where are you off to, Moody Morgan?"

Morgan looked up with a glower, hearing her loathed 'nickname'. Her grey eyes met the bright green ones of Bailey Hanson. He countered her glare with an ugly sneer. "Well? Where y'headed?"

Bailey was a year younger than Morgan, but was unfortunately short, only a half-inch taller than her. Standing on the step below Morgan, their eyes were at the same level. She'd say he was like a brother to her, having grown up alongside him for six years, but she wasn't really fond of him one way or another. Plus, she already had a kid brother to keep an eye on, even though he lived with their mum in the city.

"Don't act like you don't already know, you nosy little ass-wipe." She snarled, pushing him aside. His shoulder knocked into the drywall with a dull thud. He pushed his stringy bangs out of his face, hot on Morgan's heels as she stomped down the teen hall.

"Creative swearing, I like it." He said with a short cackle. Morgan looked over her shoulder, shooting another glare his way, and quickened her pace.

"Screw off, rat."

"No, I don't want to."

Pain shot up Morgan's left arm as Bailey yanked it back, folding it between her shoulder blades.

Morgan bit back a yowl, feeling her scarred muscle screaming beneath the skin of her arm. Bailey knew her left arm was permanently damaged, the muscles having been destroyed in some places long ago, and he had targeted it for that. He'd always done this when he picked on her, since he first found out when they had started living in Lacy's foster home. It still hurt as badly as it did back then.

When Morgan squirmed, trying to escape his grip, Bailey twisted her arm further, pushing her to gasp in pain. He snickered as she bit back a scream.

"What the hell is your problem?" she said, kicking at his shins blindly. After two attempts she found purchase, kicking him squarely below his kneecap. In a way of admitting defeat, he released her arm.

She turned to face him, and he backed off, but not fast enough to avoid her right fist knocking into his jaw.

She seethed over him as he sprawled, hand going to cover his injury protectively.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Bailey."

She stormed off down the hall, bee lining to her room, although she didn't miss the watchful look of the petite young woman for the room next to hers. She shot a look of poison her way. "What do you want, Fiona?"

The asian girl didn't vocalise a reply, simply following Morgan into her room, where she took a seat on the foot of the unmade bed.

"Not that I care or anything, but you should really tell Ms. Parsson about him doing that to you. You could sue him."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Look, I have, and there's nothing we can do. He's dangerous as it is, we don't need to make him angrier by confronting him."

"Like clocking him in the face wouldn't make him angrier."

"Whatever."

In a moment of awkward silence, Morgan turned to her nearly empty wardrobe, looking over a number of hoodies and jackets. Fiona turned to examine her perfectly manicured nails.

"So_ooo_, I heard that you've got a date with Able."

Morgan sighed. "Get out of my room Fiona."

Ignoring her demand, Fiona gracefully stepped over a pile of beaten poetry classics, peering over the red head's shoulder into her closet.

"The green jumper is cute. He'll like that."

"Fiona. Out. _Now_."

Raising her hands in surrender, Fiona backed off. "Just saying."

With the room finally rid of anyone other than herself, Morgan stripped off her shirt, examining the freshly forming bruises on her left wrist. She hissed at them, as if that would make them go away. With a huff, she threw her old shirt to the floor, pulling the sweater Fiona had pointed out off its hanger. Smoothing out the creases on the sleeves, she pulled it over her head and stepped over to examine herself in her mirror.

She decided she didn't look half bad, aside from her hair, which had turned itself into a frizzy mess while she hadn't been looking. She got down to floor level, blindly feeling under her bed for a hairbrush, but eventually gave up, deciding she'd just finger-comb her hair into submission.

After ten minutes of that, she pulled out her tiny makeup bag from its hiding spot behind her bedside table, where it was hidden to avoid its being stolen by some other girl on the floor. Most of the kids at Lacy's didn't come from the most well-to-do families, and had a tendency to take anything that they could smuggle around in their jean pockets.

Sparing a glance at her alarm clock, finding that she had a half hour before Travis would be off his scouting duties.

She quickly fixed up her mascara, and spent a moment debating whether or not to wear lip-gloss. She finally decided to leave it, tucking the makeup bag back into its spot, and went to find the perfume she had stolen from her mother's apartment last time she had visited.

Her mother was a bit of a perfume hoarder, her vanity and bathroom counters lined with coloured bottles of all shapes and sizes, more different scents than one person could ever hope to wear. Morgan had stolen a tiny little red bottle that had caught her eye, hidden behind two larger ones on her mother's vanity. Her mother would never notice it missing, since she had billions of other red-bottled perfumes.

Morgan, never having used perfume before, tried to replicate what she had seen Lacy do on a number of occasions. She spritzed some of the scented liquid on her wrists, but felt stupid and tossed the bottle away, the tiny thing landing in the mess of tangled bed sheets at the foot of her bed.

A glance to her clock told her that she had five minutes to get downstairs and meet up with Travis. She exited her room gracelessly, knocking over her piled hard-cover poetry books and slamming the door behind her.

* * *

><p>On the main floor, the kids had come in from outside, the halls ringing with excited chatter. Dodging a few gaggles of giggling tween-aged girls, Morgan spotted the messy light-brown hair over the heads of the foster kids. Naturally, it could only belong to Travis Able, and she made her way over, side-stepping kids who were making their ways to the mess hall or the common area.<p>

Morgan found Travis leaning against the wall in the foyer, dressed in a coat and boots, chatting amiably with Fiona. Unsurprisingly, Fiona had assumed a flirtatious position in the conversation, chin raised in confidence and a mischievous smirk on her face. Morgan approached casually.

"Hey, guys." She said, an eyebrow raise suspiciously as she stared at Fiona.

"Oh, hey, Morg!" Travis greeted her enthusiastically, beaming at her. Fiona gave a shallow smile of her own, one that anyone watching would have interpreted as friendly. Morgan knew better.

"You wanna get going?" She asked, smiling at her date shyly.

"Yes, let's go!" Travis said, putting his arm around Morgan's shoulders, and waving to Fiona. "See'ya, Fi!"

After grabbing her coat, the pair were on their way, headed to the tiny café in the middle of town. It wasn't very late in the day, but it was dark as night out, snowflakes floating down lazily from the heavens. Morgan couldn't help but smile; the night was beautiful and had her feeling like, despite her earlier worries, nothing could make her date turn sour.

"So, how was your day?" she asked, looking to make light conversation as she and Travis took their seats, both with Styrofoam cups in their hands.

He shrugged, displacing fresh snow from where it had rested on the shoulders of his coat. "Meh," he said, "after you left it was just boring. Nothing new. How was yours?"

Morgan shrugged this time. "It was okay. Showed the new guy to Lacy, she accepted him as a guest to our shitty little establishment. Typical drill."

"Mmhm, same-old, same-old." Travis nodded solemnly , raising his coffee in a mock toast, "Gotta love the classics."

Morgan laughed quietly.

"So, what's this new guy like? I saw him briefly before you came downstairs- Fiona and I were trying to come up with a story for him." Despite the good nature of his voice, Travis seemed to have some darker thoughts hidden in the statement. Morgan pretended not to notice.

"Ugh, what does Fiona even care?"

Travis laughed. "What's your problem with Fi? Two nice girls like you outta get along."

Morgan flinched at him lumping her with Fiona. She didn't like how it sounded, that he thought of them the same way, as "nice girls", which could either mean as a good friend, or as date-worthy specimen.

"It's not that I hate Fiona, it's just I don't like her. Never had, but it's not like I want her to drop dead or anything."

"I doubt you'd want anyone to drop dead, Morg. I was just wondering."

Morgan sighed, and Travis turned them back to his originally proposed topic. "So, what's up with the blue man? He seemed seriously freaky."

At that Morgan's jaw dropped slightly. She had certainly thought that Kurt had been strange herself, but there was no way she'd be so _rude _as to vocalise her thoughts, especially not that bluntly.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think Travis? I mean, it's not like he wants to look like that." Morgan backtracked in her mind- what if he did want to look like that? She wouldn't want to look like Kurt if she were in his position, but she had no way to know how he felt about it. "Well, I doubt he want to, at least."

Travis shrugged. "Look, he's the reason the pures don't like us."

"Don't call them 'pures'. Please."

"Fine, _normal people. _They don't like us because there are guys like him, who look like that, and there _is _nothing they can do about it, and that's the problem."

Morgan stared at Travis, almost in disbelief. This was the kind of crap she expected to hear from Bailey, not from Travis. She had always seen Travis as a do-no-evil type of guy, perfectly gorgeous with the athletic physique, and brains to boot. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"That's awful."

"Yeah, it is, but that's the truth." Travis stared deeply into his coffee, before looking back to Morgan. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Morgan was a step ahead of him, wordlessly standing up and making her way out the café doors.

After walking in uncomfortably tense silence, the pair finally arrived back at Lacy's foster home. They shucked their winter gear once inside, and Travis politely walked Morgan up to her room. Once there, he put on a painfully fake smile.

"Hey, I really enjoyed that."

"Yeah," Morgan lied through her teeth, "Me too."

"Would you want to, y'know, do that again? Sometime?"

Instead of waiting for Morgan to answer him, since he knew her answer would be 'no', Travis moved in close to her, seeking a kiss that both he and Morgan knew he didn't deserve. Morgan deftly stepped out of the way, reaching for her doorknob.

Travis' eyes never left her face. "I'll see you at dinner, then?"

Morgan stared at the ground, not wanting to look at him. "Yeah. I guess."

"Alright, then."

"Yeah, alright."

"See you later."

"Yeah."

Travis retreated down the hall, towards his room. As soon as he had shut his door behind him, Morgan rushed into her room, tears pricking her eyes. She threw herself onto her bed, pulling the sheets round her in a cocoon, and allowed her emotions to run amok. The little red bottle of perfume fell from the folds of her cover, landing on the carpeted floor with a dull thunk, which went unnoticed by the upset young woman who quietly rode out the waves of her devastation until she fell asleep, the only sign of her being alive was the slightest shifting of the bed sheets as her chest rose and fell with her even breathing.


End file.
